


Eulogy

by punkypeggy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Being Sherlock, eulogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkypeggy/pseuds/punkypeggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written under the following premise: Lestrade died and Sherlock is in charge of his eulogy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eulogy

**Author's Note:**

> By Luscinnia's request!

It is not the man who lies inside this wooden box.

 

It is only bones and rotting flesh. Remember that. It doesn’t even look like him anymore but like a broken, painted doll.

  
I don’t understand the sentimentality of this moment. We’ve always known it was coming at some point. We are not animals, they ignore the idea of their own mortality and, in a way, that makes them free. We, however, know about the clock ticking, the pendulum dancing above our heads. Whoever told you we were free is either lying or delusional, we are not. But some can make their own choices and be happy enough with them.

 

After all, they say “ignorance is bliss”.

 

I think it’s terribly unfair to live with the promise of the afterlife. Believing in it only gives us the illusion of leverage, of forgiveness, of redemption. I know the man lying inside this wooden box didn’t live for the promise of a posthumous reward. He lived and died for what he believed was right: hearing the voices of those who can no longer speak and giving them closure. He chose his path and stayed in it until his very last day because it gave him purpose. And that is why I don’t cry in front of this death and I prefer to celebrate it.

 

These words were not for the man inside the coffin but for those who remain, which is wise, because the dead can’t hear us. Still, I will allow myself a digression. I don’t remember your first name, Lestrade. And I think it’s pointless to learn it now, no reason to clutter my Mind Palace with useless information. I only want to say this to my colleague, my enabler, my handler, my friend:

 

Well done, DI.


End file.
